


combat, women, and ale

by serafinawitchwoman



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/M, alcohol tw, choking tw, drunkenness tw, i'm bad at describing facial expressions, percy has the mother of all hangovers, vex'ahlia could murder us all and we'd thank her, violence tw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-09-07 13:30:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8802766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serafinawitchwoman/pseuds/serafinawitchwoman
Summary: It started, as ninety percent of all terrifying stories start, with a flagon of ale.Featuring the pajamas with the butt flap, pretty barmaids, confessions, manly tears, strangulation, and kissing it better, in no particular order.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [citadelofswords (paradoxicalRenegade)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=citadelofswords+%28paradoxicalRenegade%29).



> In which your humble auteur tries and fails to be both witty and emotionally devastating. Concrit is welcome.
> 
> Inspired by a conversation with the lovely citadelofswords.
> 
> CW for alcohol, brief violence, bruises.

It started, as ninety precent of all terrifying stories start, with a flagon of ale.

Specifically, the flagon of ale directly across the worn table from Percy, into which his companion stared as though it were the bottom of a ravine he planned to fling himself toward.  
Vax’ildan wiped a tear from his earnest, bleary eyes, and cried, “It’s hopeless, Percy! She’ll never love me. She’s a bloody druid princess, destined to safeguard the elemental planes with her absolute fucking power, and…and she’s so beautiful. Gods, she’s so _beautiful_.” His voice grew hushed with reverence and despair. “An’ what am I?” He hiccuped gracelessly, gazing at Percy with the mournful eyes of a neglected puppy.

“The son of a lord?” Percy said thickly, proud of himself for managing to dryly raise one eyebrow. Vax was wretchedly, inconsolably drunk, for certain; but Percy, who was not a frequent imbiber, was in a scarcely better state. His vision swam and warped. His head buzzed pleasantly. “Of the Elven Ambassador, no less.”

“The _bastard exiled thieving_ son, you mean,” Vax moaned. “And she’s all…she’s all sunshine and flowers and kindness, and I’m…I _stab people_ for a living, Percival. I must disgust her. I’m not worthy!” Vax let his head fall with a thud on the table, and began to weep, his shoulders shaking with sobs beneath his black cloak. Percy reached an unsteady hand out to his friend, and clapped him on the back. Vax would die of shame if he learned that anyone had permitted him to make a great bawling spectacle of himself; best to brace the poor chap, and try to preserve his dignity.

  
“Now, now,” he said, trying to sound as sensible and comforting as he could. “Chin up, man, and dry y’r eyes. Surely ’s not so bad as all that?”

Vax sat bolt upright and flung Percy’s hand off him as though it were a diseased spider. “Fuck you, Percy!” he cried, sticking an accusatory finger dangerously close to Percy’s eye. Vax’s dark eyes were wide and full of anguish. “You have no fucking idea…no idea of the pain…to love a woman who could never love you back. It’s torment I’d not wish on my worst enemy!” Vax blinked away tears and glared Percy down, but the young lord of Whitestone paid no heed.

He was thinking of a woman with Vax’s raven hair and dark clever eyes, the same olive skin, with owlbear feathers tucked behind her ear and her hands so quick and steady with a bow; gently caressing every arrow Percy made for her as though it were a lover, her keen senses missing the shiver that crawled down his spine at the thought.  
Her bright laugh, her husky voice, low in his ear. _C’mere, you beautiful bastard._  
She had kissed him, just the once, as a jest, and his heart had stopped and turned to cool white marble. His head had filled with light.  
Percy blinked, feeling a tear run down his cheek and drip off his jaw into his ale.

“Vax,” he said somberly, “I…I’ve been a terrible friend.”  
“Wha’?” Vax goggled earnestly at him, mouth a little open, anger all gone. “Whaddya mean?” He reached across and gave Percy’s hand a rough, reassuring clasp. He was so kind, so good and honest, even when he was being a snarky moody bastard. Percy didn’t deserve a friend as steadfast as him. Not when he’d betrayed Vax so.

“I’ve…” He gulped hard, flexed his fingers uncomfortably in his gloves. “I’m…I am in love. With your sister. I’m in love with Vex. I have been for ages and ages, really.” His stomach swooped dangerously low, then high again, like a bird of prey diving. Vex’ahlia was laughing with Keyleth and Scanlan over at the bar, glimmering gold in the lamplight, laughing and smiling like a fallen star with feathers in her hair, and Vax was looking at Percy and Percy couldn’t face his eyes. He stared at his lap, felt heat climbing his cheeks. Oh gods. He’d gone and buggered it all beyond repair, again.

“…You’re in love with my sister.” Vax’s voice was uncertain, flat, as though he were still trying to process the horror he’d just heard. “You’re in love with my sister?”

Percy took a deep breath and forced himself to look Vax in the eyes. Better to face him like a man instead of shying away and stabbing him in the back. Vax’s eyes were dark and expressionless as river stones. Percy’s heart jolted.

“Yeah. Yeah, I am. I’m sorry, Vax, I’ve been such a bastard—” but his pleas were cut short by the sudden, smothering bear hug into which Vax’ildan enveloped him.

“I’m so happy for you, mate!” Vax blubbered, shedding several beery tears onto Percy’s lapels. “Gods, I’m so…I love you both so much, Perce, truly I do, an’ if you…if you love her…thas’ so sweet! Oh, you two will be perfect together. I’m…I just want you to be happy.” And he pulled the startled Percival, dizzy with relief and ale, into another crushing hug, and damned if Percy wasn’t a little (or a lot) misty-eyed himself.

Just when Percy’s lungs were beginning to clamor for air, Vax let him go and bellowed “MORE ALE!” in the direction of a very pretty barmaid, and that was where Percy’s memories of the evening went black.

  
He did not come fully awake, regrettably, until he found himself pinned flat against a wall, hangover headache present in full force, with a black-clad fist clamped on his throat. Instinctively, he reached for his gun, but found nothing but the pinstriped cloth of his long johns. Which were doing nothing to prevent a legion of splinters from skewering his ass cheeks. Because the butt flap was down.

Well, fuck.

He blinked, tried to take stock through the pain. He vaguely recognized the shape of his bed, covers flung aside, gun abandoned on the mattress. He kicked weakly, but the interloper would not be moved. He fought to focus, to get a better assessment of his foe—

Well, fuck.

Vax’ildan stood over him like a harbinger of doom, hair wild, black clothes rumpled and torn, eyes sparking with rage, his glowering visage fearsome to behold. His other hand flexed at his side, as if he were just barely restraining the urge to systematically remove Percy’s innards then and there.

“If you. So much as _breathe_ suggestively in my sister's direction,” the rogue hissed at Percy, “I will tear you apart very slowly and then bury your bones at the bottom of a dwarven mineshaft. Do you understand me, little _lordling_?”

It took Percy a moment or two to remember how speaking worked. Through his abused windpipe and chattering teeth, he stammered hoarsely, “I—gods, Vax, I swear I’d cut off my own hands before I’d do anything to hurt her, I promise—”

“Then you’d best hope I don’t cut them off for you, you treacherous little swine!” Vax snarled, lips literally lifting off his canines. “How _dare_ you—”

“VAX’ILDAN!”  
The voice rang like a peal of thunder through the room, loud enough to make Vax start and release his stranglehold on Percy. Percy gulped down air, throat raw and screaming, spasming in desperation, and as his vision cleared, he saw—

Vex’ahlia, standing in the doorway with her bow at the ready, like an avenging angel poised to strike, staring down an arrow at her twin.  
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! TAKE YOUR BLOODY HANDS OFF HIM!”  
Her brother could do little else but comply, and dropped Percy to the floor at once, where he collapsed in a heap. He watched as Vax turned to face his sister, looking decidedly cowed and chastened.

“What in the nine fucking hells are you doing, Vax?” cried Vex.

Vax gestured to Percy and stammered something about _impugn your honor_ and _traitorous whelp_ , but Vex’ahlia held up a hand, and her brother and Percy both fell silent. Her eyes were dark and full of rage and scorn, well prepared to stab her brother at a moment’s notice; her hair was loose around her face, and she stood tall and straight in nothing but a dressing gown. She was the most beautiful Percy had ever seen her.

“ _Out_ ,” she commanded, and Vax slunk from the room like a sulking child, scowling all the way. He slammed the door, and Vex dropped her bow and ran to Percy’s side.  
“Are you all right, darling? Whatever did he do to you?” Her eyes were wide with worry, and her slender hands flitted from the growing bruise on his neck to his tousled hair to his cheek. She cupped his face in her hand, and suddenly Percy’s headache was gone. She was so close to him—a dark curl brushed his temple, and he nearly shivered. This close, she smelled like pine and lavender and sage, and she was smiling fondly at him.

“It’s nothing—” —he hesitated and felt his face flush before summoning the nerve to continue— “—my dear. Don’t get angry with him. He’s only crabby because we got very drunk together last night and I…I cheated him out of a substantial sum.” He gave a sheepish grin; it wasn’t a lie, in part.

Vex brightened, and clapped her hands joyfully. “Oh, good for you, darling! That’ll show him. He’s been needing to be knocked down a peg since he swindled that poor dwarf at dice a fortnight ago.” She reached down to tweak his nose, and grinned. “Just make sure you put that money in safe hands, yes?”

Vex’s hands. Gods. “Of course, dear lady.”

“Good.” She tapped him on the nose again. “Now, let’s get you up and set to rights, yes?” She gave him her arm and hauled him to his feet. It always took him aback how bloody _strong_ she was. Relative to size, she could probably put Grog to shame.  
He blushed, and ran a hand through his hair. “Thank you, Vex. I’m sorry for waking you.”

“It isn’t anything, darling. You’ve nothing to apologize for.” She stood on tiptoe and—oh nine bloody _hells_ —she kissed the side of his neck where the bruise was beginning to show, so gently, like the brush of a raven’s wing, and Percy forgot how to breathe.  
She withdrew, and smiled up at him. “Do feel better, darling, all right? Try to get some rest. I’m going back to bed myself, after I whip my brother.” She grinned wickedly at him, and at the door turned to add, as an afterthought, “And do let me know if you need anything, love.”  
She smiled, and closed the door behind herself. Percy sank back against the wall and closed his eyes, pressing his fingers to his neck, and sighed.

Well, fuck.


End file.
